A Cause for Celebration
by Firestar385
Summary: Life in Imladris Arc. SA 1748. Lindir reaches a very important begetting day and Glorfindel thinks it's a cause for celebration. Mostly fluff. Now Complete.
1. Part One of Three

**The 'Life in Imladris' Arc** – _stories focused on the inhabitants of Rivendell._  
**_A Cause for Celebration_**

_Author's Note_: The date I have selected for Lindir's begetting day, _26 Hrívë, _exists on the calendar used in Rivendell. It is the equivalent to Dec 26 of the Shire Reckoning and Dec 17 of modern calendars. _Hrívë _is Quenyan.

For those of you who haven't read _Deception and Heartbreak_, _Dandelion_, or _Severence_, you should know that Lindir's history is that he was orphaned at the age of 22 and brought to Imladris where Glorfindel recognized him as the son of one of his past loves and decided to raise him as his own son. Lindir doesn't know about Glorfindel's relationship with his mother at the time of this story. Though chronologically this story takes place before those three, it might actually be better to read those first, if you're interested.

_Disclaimer_: This fictional story is completely made up for fun and no profit is made from it. Any similarities to real events or other writings is purely coincidental. The relationship between Lindir and Glorfindel is not an original idea but I took great pains to portray it in an original way. No beta, all mistakes were missed by myself only.

You know the drill… Please leave me a review or constructive criticism. I want to be a better writer.

This story takes place in Second Age 1748.

**Part 1/3**

_19 Hrívë_

One week. Seven days until The Day. Lindir couldn't decide if he was excited or nervous for his fiftieth begetting day to arrive in the hidden valley of Imladris. He'd had his last twenty-odd begetting day celebrations in Elrond's home, but this was the one where he'd officially be seen as an adult, though he had been helping out around the house since his handwriting had become legible enough for official documents. Everyone had always been very kind to him on his begetting days, giving him little extra treats or small gifts in the case of Glorfindel and Lord Elrond, and he had been happy with those, knowing that he was lucky enough to have a home and didn't deserve much more. Still, it was The Day and he couldn't help hoping it would be something special.

Lindir knew the older elves hadn't forgotten the special event either. Earlier in the day Elrond had asked him to retrieve a few forgotten papers for him and in the process of locating the requested documents, Lindir had found Elrond's open monthly calendar. Written in Elrond's perfect tengwar in the box for _26 Hrívë_ was '_Lindir's Beg. Day_.'

Now Lindir was helping Meril, one of the older _ellyth_ who was in charge of keeping the grounds of the house in good shape, to rescue a few late blooming flowers from the light dusting of snow that was in the process of painting the landscape white. It wasn't the first snow of the season, but none of the snow until this point had lasted beyond the peak of the afternoon sun, and Lindir doubted this snow would last much longer. The heavy snows wouldn't come until the very end of the season. The two elves were just putting the last of the frozen flowers into a clay pot when Glorfindel showed up, the snow doing nothing to diminish his unusually vibrant glow.

"Good afternoon," the legendary warrior greeted with a wide smile. "Flower rescuing?"

"Even flowers need a hero," Lindir laughed, standing and wiping the dirt from his bare hands onto his leggings.

"Yes, I suppose they do," Glorfindel said with a shake of his head. "How are you today, Meril?"

"Fine, fine," the _elleth_ replied absently. "I'm almost looking forward to the big snows this year. These simple dustings are a larger nuisance."

"I know how you feel," Glorfindel muttered. "My warriors seem to think it is impossible to train in less than pleasant weather and run indoors at the slightest hint of snow or rain," he complained. He was not too upset, however, for it was a time of relative peace and he knew his guard was very capable and well-trained. They could afford indulgences now and then.

"Well then, since you're already a hero and you're not busy, you can help carry pots," Lindir declared, holding out a few of the clay pots for Glorfindel to take. Glorfindel pretended to be put out, but took the flowers anyway.

"What would the balrog think if he saw me now?" the Elda asked morosely as he looked down at the pots he held.

"I'm sure he'd laugh himself to death," Lindir teased, collecting his own survivors. "Where are you going to put these, Meril?"

"In the glass room for now, I suppose," she answered, referring to the room off of the pantry that closely resembled a modern-day greenhouse. "Have we all of them?"

"It looks as though we do," Glorfindel replied, glancing at the uprooted garden. The three elves carried the flowers into the glass room, placing them on an empty shelf near the door. Lindir and Meril washed their hands while Glorfindel waited patiently, poking at one of the more exotic looking plants that was growing in a large trough.

"I am finished now," Lindir informed him.

"Good," Glorfindel said with a fond smile. "I shall see you later, Meril," he told the _elleth_ who was inspecting the rest of the plants for ailments.

"Good-bye," she mumbled with a weak wave, clearly more interested in her task than the two _ellyn_.

"Do you have any more rescuing to do, or are you free for the afternoon?" Glorfindel asked the younger elf once they were a few paces away from the glass room.

"I am free unless Erestor has found something else for me to do," Lindir replied.

"Well, I shall inform him that you are otherwise engaged now," Glorfindel decided, turning down the hall in the direction of the library. Both Elrond and Erestor, as well as a few of Elrond's lesser advisors, had private offices or studies close to the library and Hall of Fire.

"Am I?"

"The commanding officer of Imladris' guard has decided that you need a few private lessons so you will be fit to join the ranks after reaching your majority," Glorfindel informed him. Lindir tried not to let his dislike of the idea show on his face. Even though Lindir had shown little more than passable skill with any of the weapons he'd been taught to wield and even less interest in the them, Glorfindel still held out hope that the elfling he had promised to act as a guardian for would become a warrior, like he was. Lindir wanted nothing more to make the warrior that he both loved and idolized proud of him, but he just couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for the arts of war. He much preferred the more sedate arts of music and poetry.

They reached Erestor's office only to find that the Chief Advisor was not there, but Lord Elrond was, shuffling through the drawers of Erestor's desk. He looked up when they entered. "You've returned already?" he asked Glorfindel, glancing out the window to see where the sun was and what time it was.

"Your warriors can't handle a little snow," Glorfindel shrugged.

"It's snowing again?" Elrond looked a little rough around the edges and he seemed somewhat edgy about something. Lindir watched him curiously as he returned to pulling papers, books, and other random items from Erestor's desk.

"Aye, though not for long, or very heavily. What, exactly, having you been doing all day, Elrond?" Glorfindel questioned, also noticing that Elrond looked a bit frazzled.

"Gil-Galad and Círdan will be arriving in a few days," Elrond explained hastily. "There is absolutely no time to prepare for their arrival, what with all the things that need to be done before the snow. Erestor said he had a list of what had already been completed, but I cannot find it anywhere."

"When will they be here?" Lindir asked curiously, inching over to subtly help Elrond look. Erestor would not be happy when he saw what Elrond had done to his perfectly organized study.

"Seven days… the twenty-sixth, near midday," the half-elf answered wearily. Lindir bit his lower lip at this news, forcing himself to not remind the already stressed lord what else was supposed to take place on the twenty-sixth.

"Elrond, you know that Gil-Galad and Círdan will not expect a huge welcome on such short notice, especially at this time of the year," Glorfindel reasoned.

"They might not _expect_ it," Elrond agreed, "but wouldn't they be impressed if I _did_ manage to pull it off? After all, Gil-Galad is the High King! He deserves fanfare and feasts and the like."

"It's Gil-Galad, for Elbereth's sake," Glorfindel sighed. "He'd be happier with a honey bun than any fancy feast. He hates ceremony."

"Círdan is going to be here," Elrond reminded him. "Círdan likes ceremony. Valar! I thought Erestor was organized. Where is that list?" He slammed the drawer shut, causing a the mess on top of the desk to wobble dangerously and a few sheets of parchment to flutter to the floor. Lindir hastily picked them up before Elrond stepped on them without realizing it.

"Why are they coming?" Glorfindel queried, moving out of Elrond's way as the half-elf brushed by him, heading towards a low cabinet that Erestor also filed papers in.

"Gil-Galad is doing rounds of his kingdom and I think he mentioned something about Oropher, as well. The Silvyn are still having trouble with Sauron, despite his retreat to Mordor. By the time the missive reached here, he and Círdan would have already left Mithlond."

"Then surely they cannot expect a high-to-do reception. Perhaps that is why Gil-Galad waited so long to send word of his coming," the balrog-slayer suggested. "He doesn't want one."

"Or maybe it's a test to see if I'm truly capable of running my own land. Círdan never has trouble planning feasts, even if he is given one day's notice," Elrond pointed out, tossing papers haphazardly onto the floor. Lindir hoped for his lord's sake that Erestor didn't return any time soon.

"All Círdan does is sit around in his comfortable port and plan stupid feasts," Glorfindel argued. "He probably has a feast planned for every day for the next _yení_, just in case some poor fool comes to visit him."

"Círdan does more than plan feasts," Elrond countered. "And don't let him hear you say that."

"He doesn't scare me," Glorfindel laughed. "When are you going to grow up and stop groveling at Gil-Galad's feet?"

"I do not," Elrond huffed, turning away from his task to give Glorfindel a dark look. He started pulling out papers again, barely glancing at them before tossing them aside. After a few seconds he jumped up triumphantly. "I found it!" He waved the parchment under Glorfindel's nose happily. "Come now, let's go find Erestor and figure out what can be done before Gil-Galad arrives and what can wait for a few more weeks." Elrond made his way purposely towards the door, unmindful of the papers he trampled in the process. Glorfindel and Lindir followed him.

"Erestor is going to be very upset," Lindir whispered to Glorfindel as they followed a few paces behind Elrond. Glorfindel grinned at this.

"I do not see why Elrond is so worried about Gil-Galad and Círdan thinking he does a good job running his valley, because it is truly Erestor who keeps Imladris from collapsing," Glorfindel murmured.

"What are you whispering about?" Elrond questioned, glancing over his shoulder at them. He didn't wait for a response for they had reached Erestor's suite and the half-elf knocked quickly on the door. At Erestor's invitation to enter, Elrond hurried inside, followed more warily by Glorfindel and Lindir.

"I found it," Elrond informed his Chief Advisor and long-time friend. He handed the paper to Erestor, who took it and placed it on top of a very neatly stacked pile of papers on his desk before returning to writing out a letter of some sort. "It wasn't in your desk."

"No, I told you in was in the low cabinet," Erestor replied. "At least you found it. I'm almost done with this letter, and then we can schedule the rest of the week."

"Good," Elrond nodded. He sat down in an extra chair across from Erestor's desk and glanced over at the two blonds who still stood unobtrusively by the door. "Erestor, tell Glorfindel that I do not grovel at Gil-Galad's feet."

"Glorfindel, Elrond does not grovel at Gil-Galad's feet," Erestor parroted obediently, never looking up from his work. Elrond gave Glorfindel a 'so there' look.

"Perhaps not," Glorfindel shrugged. Lindir noticed the mischievous look in Glorfindel's blue eyes and instinctively looked for someplace in the room to take cover when one of the elf lords before him exploded. His best guess was that it would be Erestor. "I think you'll be groveling at Erestor's feet when he discovers what you did to his office." Lindir cringed as Erestor's shoulders tensed and he slowly set his quill down and looked up at Elrond.

"What did you do to my office?" Erestor asked gravely, his dark gaze focused unwaveringly on the half-elf.

Elrond tried to look innocent, and he was very successful except that Erestor had known him since he'd been found under the waterfall with his twin, Elros, and was not at all tricked by the act.

"Decorated," Glorfindel answered when Elrond remained silent. "Though, I didn't know 'papers-everywhere-including-on-the-floor' was the new trend. I must be behind on the times." Lindir took a step back, trying to edge behind Glorfindel's broad frame so he would be shielding from any projectile Elrond might launch at the Elda.

"That is not true!" Elrond exclaimed, jumping up. "I'm going to send you back to Mandos with a note saying 'Do not come back.'"

"You can try." Glorfindel grinned infuriatingly. Lindir couldn't believe Elrond _hadn't_ managed to kill Glorfindel a second time for all the grief the Elda caused the half-elf.

"You strew papers all over my office?" Erestor demanded, drawing Elrond's attention away from Glorfindel and back to him. "They're out of order now?" Erestor's voice was rising in volume.

"No, they are perfectly fine! I thought we were working on the schedule…"

"Come, let us go," Glorfindel whispered to Lindir, nudging him towards the door. They slipped out, closing the door behind them as Erestor started to rant at Elrond.

"I can't believe you!" Lindir hissed, incredulous.

"I don't know how you can work with them everyday," Glorfindel shot back, linking his arm through Lindir's and leading him towards their own suites.

"Usually they don't have some buffoon antagonist starting fights between them," Lindir pointed out.

"Who me?" Glorfindel laughed merrily as he pushed open the door to Lindir's room. "They need to relieve some tension. Erestor is even more stiff than usual and Elrond needs to stop thinking about Gil-Galad. They'll thank me for this tomorrow."

"I doubt it," Lindir replied. He headed over to his wardrobe to locate clothes that would be suitable for sparing with Glorfindel in the colder weather.

"While you are changing, I am going to do something in my room," Glorfindel announced, heading towards the door again. "Come find me when you're ready."

"I will," Lindir agreed. Once Glorfindel left, Lindir slowly changed. Even Glorfindel hadn't mentioned anything about Lindir's begetting day being the same day that Elrond was so worried about. Lindir supposed that Glorfindel, and especially Elrond and Erestor, had good reasons for not remembering. They were all so busy, and the begetting day of an orphan wasn't important, even if it was his fiftieth.

Determined to not feel sorry for himself and be thankful for what he had, Lindir composed himself again and headed next door to retrieve Glorfindel.

_tbc…_


	2. Part Two of Three

**The 'Life in Imladris' Arc** – _stories focused on the inhabitants of Rivendell._  
**_A Cause for Celebration_**

_Disclaimer_: This fictional story is completely made up for fun and no profit is made from it. Any similarities to real events or other writings is purely coincidental. The relationship between Lindir and Glorfindel is not an original idea but I took great pains to portray it in an original way. No beta, all mistakes were missed by myself only.

You know the drill… Please leave me a review or constructive criticism. I want to be a better writer.

**Part 2/3**

_25 Hrívë_

The day before Gil-Galad and Círdan's arrival, Erestor and Elrond finally felt ready to receive their guests. That morning they had finished the final preparations, leaving them the afternoon and evening to relax until the next day when their guests arrived.

Elrond hadn't forgotten Lindir's begetting day in the hectic week, and had humbly asked Lindir if he would mind celebrating a day early, before the High King arrived. Lindir, of course, agreed to the small ceremony that would be held in Elrond's sitting room, as it was the largest and most comfortable room in the private wing of the house. He was simply happy to be remembered at all. Well, perhaps he would have been happier to celebrate _on_ his begetting day, but he could live with this.

He was dressed in his best tunic and leggings, with his nicest shoes and his hair braided as intricately as he could manage on his own. He'd been left alone for a few hours while Elrond and Erestor prepared for his "party" and Glorfindel tied up a few loose ends down at the training fields. In an effort to make the best of his situation, Lindir had decided to wear his dressiest outfit. The occasion was still special.

There was a knock on the door. Before Lindir could even open his mouth to call out an invitation to enter, Glorfindel had opened the door and strolled in. "You look wonderful," Glorfindel complimented, walking over to stand next to Lindir. The younger elf regarded their reflection in his full-length mirror. "Very handsome."

"Thank you," Lindir replied modestly. Truthfully, he thought he paled in comparison to Glorfindel's splendor. The warrior had obviously changed before coming over. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored royal blue tunic with silver and gold trimmings and his cascade of sunlit blond hair was left free except for two small braids, one at either temple.

"Just think," Glorfindel spoke up. "In a few hours I can refer to you as an _ellon_ instead of an elfling."

"You haven't called me an elfling in years," Lindir reminded him. "Just because I'm not officially an adult until tomorrow doesn't mean I haven't been one for a few years anyway."

"Ah, you'll always be my little Lindir elfling," Glorfindel said with a chuckle. He draped an arm over Lindir's shoulders. "You've always made me proud." Lindir beamed at this, for there was little he wanted more than Glorfindel's love and esteem. He only hoped he didn't disappoint the warrior when he failed to become a glorified guard for Imladris. "Come now, we should walk over to Elrond's suite. I am sure he is ready for us now."

Glorfindel hooked his arm in Lindir's as he was prone to do and Lindir leaned slightly into him, wondering if it was normal to not feel any different, despite the fact that he was now an "adult." He certainly didn't feel any older or more important. He hoped that nothing changed in his life now that he was an adult. He enjoyed helping Erestor during the mornings with the paperwork of Imladris and then spending his afternoons alternately practicing his music with the head minstrel or helping out as much as he could around the large house. The evenings he usually spent with Glorfindel unless the warrior was away on patrol.

They reached Elrond's suite and Glorfindel knocked loudly, this time waiting for a response before barging in. Elrond called for them to enter. The half-elf, in Lindir's opinion, always looked very regal and lordly, and this time was no exception. Elrond was dressed in his favorite burgundy robes, trimmed with silver thread. Erestor was there was well, dressed in his customary darkly colored robes, but Lindir recognized the clothes as some of Erestor's finest. He felt touched that the older elves had decided to dress up for his silly little "party."

"Have a seat," Elrond offered, motioning to a low couch near the fire. "Wine?" Both Lindir and Glorfindel nodded as they took their seats. Glorfindel noticed the label on the bottle as Elrond poured the wine.

"Dorwinion," he said appreciatively.

"Nothing but the best," Elrond grinned as he handed Glorfindel his flute of the dark red liquid. "Happy begetting day, Lindir," he said as he handed the younger elf his glass.

"Thank you." Lindir took a small sip of his drink. He'd had the wine before, but only on very special occasions as the spirit was difficult to come by and very expensive due to sometimes tense relations between the Noldor nations and Oropher's realm and the long distances to send the fragile bottles.

"Help yourself to as much as you want," Elrond instructed, placing the open bottle on the low table in front of the couch. There were also a few bowls of snack-type foods on the table. Elrond took his seat in an oversized chair across the table from Glorfindel and Lindir, next to Erestor's seat. The half-elf clapped his hands together. "We are going to have fun tonight," he declared. "Anything you want to do, Lindir, but Erestor and I brought out some of our favorite games in case you wanted to play any."

"Oh, let us play the history-trivia game," Glorfindel suggested, reaching for the wooden box that contained the painted board, carefully carved pieces, and questions about the history of the elves.

"Glorfindel! Let Lindir choose," Erestor admonished the warrior, slapping Glorfindel's hands away from the game.

"I don't mind," Lindir insisted. He knew he didn't have a prayer of winning against three elves who had lived through almost all of the elves' history, but he would enjoy the game anyway.

"See," Glorfindel glared at Erestor. "I shall be the sword…"

"Glorfindel!"

"Erestor!" Glorfindel mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "It is fine, for I am sure Lindir will want to be the tree, at any rate." Glorfindel picked out the piece and handed it to Lindir. Erestor's annoyed look did not lessen much. Lindir tried not to laugh because he knew Erestor was indignant on his behalf.

"Oh, be calm," Elrond scolded, reaching for the piece of his choosing. He set up the board while Erestor picked of the remaining pieces. "Now, we shall play youngest to oldest," Elrond decided. "Lindir can go first."

"And you can go second," Glorfindel realized, shaking his finger at Elrond.

"How convenient," Elrond shrugged, pretending as if he hadn't planned it that way. "Here are the dice, Lindir." Elrond handed the two wooden cubes, each side marked with a tengwar number between one and six, to Lindir. Lindir rolled, setting off what would prove to be a very interesting game until Elrond managed to come out on top. Lindir, like he had known he would, came in last, even though Glorfindel had tried cheating by implying some of the answers. The only hiccup in the game had come when Erestor and Elrond had gotten into a heated argument over the answer to one of Elrond's questions, which resulted in Elrond threatening to dismember whoever had written the question and Erestor digging out a history book to find that, in fact, Elrond _was_ right. Elrond had remained smug for the rest of the night after reminding his friends that he was _always_ right.

Lindir had spent more of the game laughing than actually paying attention to anything. His wine glass never seemed to lose any of its drink, thanks to Glorfindel keeping a watchful eye on its fullness, and there was little he found more entertaining than listening to the older elves banter amongst themselves. Suddenly, he was very glad for this small, intimate celebration the night before his begetting day, for he found himself enjoying it much more than he ever would have enjoyed an informal feast in his honor.

"Now what game shall we play?" Lindir asked, eying the remaining ones.

"Whatever you like, _pen-neth_," Erestor answered.

"This one?" Lindir suggested, pulling out his favorite game. It was a drawing game, where you had to try to draw out an object written on a slip of paper and have your partner guess what it is before a certain amount of time had passed. Lindir, being creatively minded, was very good at thinking of ways to represent abstract ideas pictorially and to guess what others were drawing. He would be more of a competitor in this game than in the last.

"I am Lindir's partner," Glorfindel stated, opening the box and pulling out a slate and a piece of chalk.

"You're always Lindir's partner," Elrond complained, though he didn't seem to mind being paired with Erestor. The two had spent Elrond's lifetime together, and knew each other very well.

Glorfindel and Lindir did win that game, much to Lindir's delight. The older elves shared a look over Lindir's head as the youngest in their company chattered on about the more ingenious moments that he and Glorfindel had shared to ensure their victory while putting the game pieces back in their box. Erestor gave Glorfindel a disapproving shake of the head as the Elda filled Lindir's wine glass, again. Glorfindel ignored it; he was quite happy with Lindir's current state of inebriation. The youngster was clearly enjoying himself and was more outspoken and outgoing than usual, making the night all that more entertaining for the balrog-slayer.

"Tell me a story," Lindir requested of nobody in particular, though it didn't matter for all three of the other elves knew a wealth of exciting stories.

"Wouldn't you like to open your gifts now?" Erestor asked, mentally adding to himself, 'before Glorfindel has you too drunk to focus on anything.'

"A grand idea," Glorfindel said with a large grin. "Elrond, where did you hide the gifts?"

"I didn't hide them. They're right here," Elrond responded, pointing a pile of wrapped gifts between his and Erestor's chairs. "Which one shall we give first?"

"This one," Erestor decided, inspecting the gifts for himself. He held out a sword and sheath, wrapped in only a satin bow.

"There is not much to unwrap," Lindir commented as he took the gift.

"Yes, well, Glorfindel isn't that creative," Elrond jested.

"Oh, be quiet," Glorfindel snapped playfully as he leaned back and draped his arm over the back of the couch behind Lindir. Lindir removed the bow and inspected the decoration on the hilt of the sword.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, stroking the inlay reverently.

"The symbol of the Golden Flower is worked into the design up here," Glorfindel explained, pointing out the delicate _mithril_ pattern.

"I love it," Lindir said with awe. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Glorfindel replied.

"Here is something else from Glorfindel, and this time it is wrapped," Elrond spoke up, handing a soft package to Lindir. Upon opening it, a new set of robes and silk sash were revealed, along with a silk undershirt.

"This is too much," Lindir whispered, stroking the fine, and very expensive material of the new clothes. "You shouldn't have, Glorfindel."

"Nothing is too much for you, _sinquelë_," Glorfindel argued, reaching up to brush a few loose strands of Lindir's hair over his shoulder. "You shall have to wear these tomorrow to Elrond's silly feast for Gil-Galad and Círdan."

"I will," Lindir promised over Elrond's protests that his feast was not silly.

"Good. What's next?" Glorfindel questioned.

"There is an awful lot of stuff here from Glorfindel," Erestor mused, reaching for another wrapped gift. "You will spoil him."

"Nonsense. Give it over here," Glorfindel argued. Erestor handed over the gift to Lindir, who opened it curiously. It turned out to be a dagger, decorated with the same beautiful pattern as the sword. Likewise, the quiver that came next bore the same markings. Fortunately, Lindir was sober enough to not comment on the number of weapons he had received from Glorfindel, not wanting to dash the warrior's dream of having his prodigy follow in his footsteps. Each piece was beautiful. Lindir only hoped they'd be used enough to make their price worth it.

"Ah, we've reached the bottom of Glorfindel's pile at last," Erestor noticed. "Now for the good presents."

"Mine were good presents," Glorfindel protested.

"I liked them," Lindir assured him.

"I am glad," Glorfindel said with a smile in return.

"This is from me," Erestor explained, handing a wrapped bundle to Lindir. As he had done with all previous gifts, Lindir unwrapped it slowly and carefully. Inside was a gorgeous leather case, filled to the brim with paper, ink, and different sized quills. Lindir noted immediately that some of the paper was already lined and marked. They were blank sheets of music. Lindir was speechless for a moment.

"Oh, Erestor, it's perfect, thank you," Lindir gushed once he could speak again. There were four different sized quills and three pots of ink: red, blue, and black. There was also a pot of powder to sprinkle over the wet ink so it wouldn't run.

"I'll expect some new songs soon," Erestor joked, pleased that his gift was so well received.

"I cannot wait to start working on them," Lindir replied earnestly. "Thank you again."

"You are welcome."

"And finally," Elrond announced happily, "here is my gift." He handed a heavy box over the table to Lindir. Inside Lindir found a small wooden case with an intricately decorated flute inside, which he immediately treasured. Underneath the case were a few books. One was of popular sonnets and odes. The second was a book of poems, and the third was an account of Gondolin in the First Age. Glorfindel quite liked the last book himself.

Glorfindel topped off Lindir's wine glass and ordered him to drink it in an attempt to end Lindir's profuse thanks to all of them for his wonderful gifts. Lindir complied and curled up against Glorfindel's side to listen to the tale Elrond had agreed to tell from back when he, Erestor, and Glorfindel still lived with and worked for Gil-Galad.

It wasn't long before the combination of the wine, the excitement from the celebration, and the soothing tone of Elrond's story-telling voice, plus the warm heat from the fire and Glorfindel, pushed Lindir closer and closer to the edge of sleep. Glorfindel rescued the wine flute from Lindir's relaxed fingers before it stained his leggings red and set it on the table before making himself comfortable again. He hugged Lindir close to his side, unable to express how proud he was to call the blond next to him is own. He wished Ancalë, Lindir's mother, could have been there to see her son reach adulthood. Glorfindel knew she would have been just as proud.

"Is he asleep?" Erestor asked once Elrond had finished his tale.

"No," Lindir mumbled faintly as Glorfindel answered, "Almost, but not quite."

"I think it is time to retire," Elrond commented, standing from his chair and stretching slightly.

"I agree," Glorfindel stated, gently pushing Lindir to sit upright so he could stand as well. Once he was up, he offered a hand to Lindir to pull him off the couch.

"Do you need help carrying things back to his room?" Erestor inquired of Glorfindel.

"That would be helpful," Glorfindel accepted. He handed Lindir the folded robes and flute case while he himself carried the sword, dagger, and quiver and Erestor collected the leather music case and books from Elrond.

"I shall see you all in the morning," Elrond said in parting as the three started to leave. "Happy begetting day, Lindir."

"Thank you." Erestor, Lindir, and Glorfindel walked slowly down the hall towards Lindir's room. The two older elves started talking about the plans for the next day when Gil-Galad and Círdan would arrive with their escort. Lindir was content to remain silent and reflect on how happy he was to have ended up in a home with many who cared so much about him, and especially how fortunate he was to have won Glorfindel's love. He couldn't think of anyone who he'd rather have as his guardian and teacher.

They reached Lindir's suite and the two older elves helped the younger find places for all his new possessions. Once that was done, Erestor bid them goodnight and returned to his own suite. While Lindir changed into his sleep clothes, Glorfindel turned down the bedding. Lindir slid into the soft bed, immediately realizing it would not be long until he would be treading the paths of elvish reveries.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" Glorfindel asked. He took a seat on the edge of Lindir's bed and ran his long fingers through Lindir's unbraided hair.

"I did. Thank you for everything, and I don't mean just for my begetting day, but for all you've done for me since I came to Imladris."

"I only wish I could do more," Glorfindel replied. "You should sleep now. Tomorrow will be a stressful day, I think. I am sure Elrond will be panicking all morning."

"You should be nicer to him," Lindir chastised weakly. "He has many things to worry about."

"If you had been there when we first met, you would know that Elrond deserves a lot worse than I give him," Glorfindel answered with a chuckle. "He was quite the little terror."

"That's not the story he's told me," Lindir countered.

"Of course it isn't. Elrond thinks he is the Valar's gift to Arda." Lindir laughed at this.

"Well, we all know it is truly you who is the Valar's gift to Arda. After all, they did send you back after you had died once."

"That is true," Glorfindel said with a chuckle. "I still cannot wait until Elrond has children of his own. I hope they are as horrible to him as he was to Erestor and I when he was younger."

"But Elrond says he shall never have children of his own."

"Perhaps." Glorfindel shrugged. "It would only be fair if he did, however." Lindir made a non-committal sound as drowsiness slowly took him over. Glorfindel remained on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair, until Lindir was asleep.

If anyone asked Glorfindel, he would have told them that Lindir was the Valar's gift to him, if not to Arda.

_tbc…_

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* * *

_

Thank you, my reviewers!

**Ashti** – I'm excited to have a fan! You're also a bit of a mind reader. _smiles_

**Celme** – I'm actually in the process of another Second Age story, so if it ever reaches substantial completion, you can look forward to that as well. And me, embarrass Elrond? Never. _smirks_

**HazleSilver **– Thank you, and I hope you like the other stories as well.

**Andromida** – I was missing Lindir a bit too, and don't worry, Gil-Galad and Círdan definitely are in part three.

**Batfinc** – I do put Lindir through a lot of misery, don't I? It gets better though.


	3. Part Three of Three

**The 'Life in Imladris' Arc** – _stories focused on the inhabitants of Rivendell._  
**_A Cause for Celebration_**

_Disclaimer_: This fictional story is completely made up for fun and no profit is made from it. Any similarities to real events or other writings is purely coincidental. The relationship between Lindir and Glorfindel is not an original idea but I took great pains to portray it in an original way. No beta, all mistakes were missed by myself only.

You know the drill… Please leave me a review or constructive criticism. I want to be a better writer.

**Part 3/3**

_26 Hrívë_

The next morning, the morning of Lindir's fiftieth begetting day, the sun caught the newly-turned adult still abed, sleeping off the effects of the copious amounts of wine he'd drunk the night before. The lords of Imladris had been content to let Lindir sleep as they rushed around to make last minute preparations for the arrival of Gil-Galad and Círdan. They wouldn't have been in such a hurry if not for the fact that a forward messenger had arrived to let them know that the two elf lords were hours ahead of schedule and would be arriving that morning instead of early afternoon.

The warm rays of the sun finally managed to draw Lindir from very pleasant dreams and for a few moments he was content to just lay there and stare at the ceiling. Eventually, he remembered why today was such an important day and figured it would be good of him to get up and help the older elves prepare. He leisurely sat up, not noticing anything different about the setup of his sleeping chamber until a glint of something bright caught his gaze out of the corner of his eye.

He thought he surely must still be dreaming. In a corner of his room, where once a low chair and table had stood, was the most magnificent harp he had ever laid eyes on. It stood nearly as tall as he, made of solid gold with _mithril_ inlay that swirled in between the pearly strings. Lindir slid out of bed and approached it cautiously, as if it would disappear should he get too close. It didn't, and Lindir lovingly traced one strand of _mithril_ until it disappeared around the other side of the instrument. Lindir plucked a few of the strings, discovering that it was perfectly tuned. He knew instantly that it was a gift from Glorfindel, for who else would have gotten him such an extravagant yet perfect present? The night before he had been slightly hurt that Glorfindel had shown little care for his preference towards music by giving him only weapons, but this proved that Glorfindel truly did approve of Lindir's choice to be a minstrel rather than a warrior.

Lindir inspected every inch of his new harp and the stool and music stand that came with it, each carved with the same design as the harp. He could not wait to start writing music with the aid of the instrument, but first he had to let Glorfindel know how much he loved it.

Jumping up, Lindir stripped out of his sleeping clothes and pulled on the first pair of leggings and tunic that he came across, not caring if they were dirty or had spent the night on his floor. He slipped on house shoes and darted down the hall, correctly guessing that Glorfindel would be helping to set up in the Hall of Fire.

"Glorfindel!" Lindir cried as he entered the large room where many elves were moving around tables and chairs. The blond warrior looked up upon hearing his name and smiled widely upon seeing his disheveled elfling-now-ellon hurrying towards him. He caught the minstrel in a hug as Lindir threw his arms around Glorfindel's neck. "I love it! I love it!" Lindir exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"

"I thought you might like it," Glorfindel replied with a grin. "It's better than Elrond's flute, isn't it?"

"They're both wonderful," Lindir replied diplomatically, but the light in his eyes proved to Glorfindel that the harp had been Lindir's favorite gift.

"Well, I am glad it was well-received," Glorfindel said fondly. "Come now, you look as though you have just rolled out of bed and you smell like a vineyard. Go get dressed for the day. Gil-Galad and Círdan shall arrive earlier than we thought."

"I shall," Lindir agreed. "Thank you again."

"You are welcome. Hurry up!" Lindir laughed happily and nearly danced from the room, excited to try out a few scales on the harp before bathing and dressing. Once he was gone, Erestor sidled up to Glorfindel.

"I take it that he liked it?" the dark haired advisor asked.

"I think so," Glorfindel replied smugly.

* * *

"Lindir, dear, wait a minute," called one of the kitchen maids, Bainiel, as the young minstrel walked by on his way to join Glorfindel and the others in greeting the king and Lord Círdan. 

"What is it?" Lindir questioned pleasantly. Despite the overshadowing of his special day by the arrival of Elrond's guests, he could not drown the joy he felt at the gifts he had received that morning.

"I have something for you, though it is not much," she replied. The _elleth_ produced a small, bound book, wrapped in naught but a thin ribbon. Lindir undid the ribbon and flipped open the book, finding that the pages were all blank. "It's a journal," Bainiel explained.

"It is just what I need to keep note of any lyrics I think of," Lindir told her with a warm smile. "Thank you. You shouldn't have gotten anything for me."

"Of course I should have," chuckled the older elf. "I always did say it was a bad idea for three single _ellyn_ to be raising a child, but here you are, fifty years old, and such a nice elf." Lindir colored slightly at her compliment. "Off you go then, child. Rumor has it that the guests have already arrived."

"Thank you again, Bainiel. You shall be the first to see any new lyrics I come up with."

"I'll be counting on it."

Lindir continued down the hall, but this time heading for the main entrance to the house where he suspected the older elves and their guests would be. He was correct and came down the marble stairs to stand beside Glorfindel just as Gil-Galad and his escort dismounted from the horses.

"You've hidden this valley of yours too well, Elrond," complained Gil-Galad once he had pulled the half-elf into a quick warrior embrace. "I was here the day it was founded, and I still missed that entrance the first time."

"Only because you refuse to listen to anyone else's input," Lord Círdan said gruffly.

"Don't listen to him," Gil-Galad told Elrond. "He's been in a mood the whole trip." Círdan didn't dignify the comment with one of his own, instead choosing to look completely put-out by the king.

"Besides missing the entrance, I trust your journey was safe?" Erestor spoke up from just behind Elrond.

"Most boringly so," Gil-Galad said with a sigh. "How do you do, Erestor?"

"Well, my lord."

"I am glad to hear it." The king turned now to Glorfindel, a wide smile stealing across his face. "Glorfindel, I am glad to see you are still among us. Between surviving both Erestor and Elrond, you are quite the cunning elf."

"It hasn't been easy," Glorfindel joked, earning himself a scowl from both of the elves in question. "Fortunately, Lindir here has always been on my side." Glorfindel dragged the minstrel around from behind him, noting with pride how handsome Lindir looked in the new robes he had received the night before.

"_Mae govannen_, Ereinion Gil-Galad and Lord Círdan," Lindir greeted respectfully. He bowed slightly at the waist.

"_Mae govannen_, young one," Círdan responded with equal formality. Gil-Galad, on the other hand, clasped Lindir on the shoulder.

"Ah, my boy, you must be the one who turns fifty today," deduced the king eagerly. "Tell me, is my presence here the best gift you have received so far?" Lindir was too stunned that the king had even known what today was to formulate a response before Glorfindel jumped in to defend his own honor.

"_I_ gave him the best gift," insisted the balrog-slayer.

Lindir finally found his voice and argued, "All of my gifts were very nice. Ereinion, I am surprised that you even knew what today is."

"As if Glorfindel would let anyone forget," Erestor deadpanned.

"Come, come," Elrond interjected, herding his guests and friends towards the house. "We can speak later, but Menelluin has prepared a fantastic feast, and you know how he hates his dinners to be delayed."

"To dine sounds like a fine idea," Círdan agreed. "I do enjoy a good feast." Elrond shot Glorfindel a smug look, which the balrog-slayer pointedly ignored.

"After the feast I shall show you all the improvements and additions we have made to Imladris since you were last here, Gil-Galad," Elrond offered enthusiastically. Glorfindel rolled his eyes, but Elrond didn't notice.

"That would be swell, my boy," Gil-Galad accepted the invitation. "Now, where is this feast? I am famished!"

On the way into the house, Glorfindel caught Elrond's elbow and drew him briefly to a halt while their guests proceeded without them. "I thought you weren't going to grovel at his feet anymore, Peredhel," the blond whispered.

"I am not groveling," Elrond hissed in return, pointing his finger in Glorfindel's face angrily.

"Boys, we're not fighting already, are we?" Gil-Galad called out jovially over his shoulder without even looking back. Lindir and Erestor both swallowed laughs at the expressions on Glorfindel and Elrond's faces at the chastisement. Lindir decided that he very much liked the High King.

Erestor called for a servant to ring the dinner bell to alert the rest of the inhabitants that the feast was about to be served. The group made their way casually down the hall towards the Hall of Fire to allow others to arrive before them. By the time they made it to the temporary dinning hall, many of the diners had already arrived and taken their seats. Lindir usually sat at one of the lower tables during the large meals but this afternoon Elrond invited him to sit at the head table with the esteemed elf lords. Lindir didn't miss the dark look Elrond sent Glorfindel as they headed in opposite directions to reach their designated seats. The half-elf hadn't appreciated being embarrassed in front of the High King.

"Sit here," Elrond instructed Lindir in a low voice, motioning to the chair directly to the lord's right.

"But shouldn't Gil—" Lindir questioned, wondering if it was intentional that he was being shown to the seat of highest honor.

"No, just sit," Elrond repeated patiently. Lindir did as he was told. Elrond remained standing, waiting for all of seats to be filled before sitting down himself. Lindir found himself seated across from Gil-Galad and next to Círdan, feeling rather awkward at having usurped the most prominent seat besides Elrond's. The king smiled reassuringly at him, but Lindir didn't feel much better. Fortunately, Glorfindel was next to Gil-Galad and Erestor next to him, so Lindir could still speak with them throughout the meal.

Gil-Galad was surprisingly interested in the young minstrel and after a few hesitant answers to the king's first unexpected questions, Lindir grew more confident and went into more depth with his answers. It helped to have Elrond beside him, filling in gaps in the conversation with entertaining stories about life in Imladris and Lindir in particular. Lindir actually enjoyed himself.

After the main course but before dessert was served, Elrond rose from his seat once more, causing the room to fall silent as the diners waited for him to speak. Lindir knew this was when Elrond would announce his guests.

"Thank you all for joining us today in celebration," Elrond started, smiling broadly at his subjects and guests. "I'd like to start by introducing Lord Círdan from Mithlond…" The bearded elf stood from his seat to acknowledge the murmured greetings from the others. "And Ereinion Gil-Galad, who would like to say a few words." Elrond remained standing as Gil-Galad rose to speak.

"I'd like to think you're all here to see me," the king started, earning himself a few quiet chuckles, "but today there is one here more important than I. Today is a celebration not of a safe end to a journey, but of the start of a new journey, one that will last much longer than the one I took to be here today. I proud to be here on the day Lindir Loswanion reaches his majority and becomes an adult." Thunderous applause filled the room as Lindir gaped at the High King. There was no way that this feast was in honor of him. He was just a silly little orphan.

"Don't be shy my boy!" exclaimed the king. "Stand up."

Lindir was sure that his face was bright red, and probably his ears too. It suddenly made sense as to why Elrond had seated him in the place of honor. He wanted to refuse to stand up and instead hide beneath the table, but the look he received from Glorfindel gave him the courage he needed to force himself out of his chair. It was a look of unconditional love and pride, like that of a father for a son who had just accomplished something great.

If it was possible, the din in the room grew louder as Lindir hesitantly stood. "I…I wasn't expecting this," Lindir admitted as it grew quiet enough for him to be heard. "I thought this feast was for Ereinion and Lord Círdan."

"Surprise," Glorfindel mouthed, followed by a huge smile.

"But I am greatly touched, and I thank you all," Lindir concluded. He went to sit down and end his embarrassment, but Elrond caught his elbow and forced him to stand through another round of applause and shouts of congratulations. It seemed like a century before Elrond finally let him sit. Lindir was still shocked that this entire feast was actually for him, but at the same time, he was deeply honored that the three unfit-males-to-be-raising-an-elfling had taken so much time and care to plan this surprise for him.

"After dessert we shall remain here for more of Lindir's celebration," Elrond announced before finally taking his seat again as well. Dessert turned out to be Lindir's favorite and he had eaten two servings of it before finally convincing the wait staff that he couldn't eat another bite.

After the last diner had finished, it took only minutes for the servants to move the tables, dishes and all, out in the hall so the room could be freed up for dancing and merrymaking. Lindir found himself a cozy seat in the corner, still slightly overwhelmed at all that had been done on his behalf. Glorfindel and Erestor joined him shortly, taking seats on either side of him.

"I can't believe all of this," Lindir told them, his hazel eyes wide. "You had this planned, all along?"

"We did," Glorfindel admitted. "Were you surprised?"

"I had no idea. I was completely convinced that last night was it."

"As if I would allow this day to pass unmarked," Glorfindel huffed good-naturedly.

"You have lived with Glorfindel for twenty-eight years now. I would you think you wouldn't be surprised at this extravagance," Erestor said with a laugh. "I say you deserve it, for all you put up with living next door to Glorfindel."

"I am hurt," Glorfindel pouted playfully. "It wasn't my intention to have Círdan and Gil-Galad here, originally. They truly are here on business and tomorrow shall see them locked away in Elrond's study, but Gil-Galad immediately loved the idea and insisted on making his speech at dinner. Elrond mentioned that he'd been working on it during his entire trip here. I had made it perfectly clear that nothing would interfere with my celebration."

"Your celebration?" Erestor questioned dubiously.

"Well, I planned it," Glorfindel pointed out.

"_I_ planned it," Erestor corrected, pointing at himself for emphasis.

"It was my idea," Glorfindel amended.

"It was Elrond who figured out how to make it a surprise," Erestor reminded him.

"Well, I was the one who decided it would be a good idea to be a surprise," Glorfindel said sourly.

Lindir laughed at his expression. "Now that I have stopped reeling from it, I loved the surprise," he assured the balrog-slayer. Glorfindel gave Erestor a victorious look as he slung his arm around Lindir's shoulders.

"That's my boy. Now, where are all those presents we have to open?"

"More presents?" Lindir exclaimed. "Please tell me that you didn't get me anything else. You've already done too much!"

"No, none of these are from myself, Ere, or Elrond. There are many other elves in Imladris, you know."

"They shouldn't have."

"It is not every day that an elfling turns fifty," Erestor countered with a smile. "Everyone is happy for you."

"No one more than I," Glorfindel declared.

"Must you make everything a competition?"

"You are simply jealous because I always win. I gave Lindir the best present and I am the happiest for him and the proudest of him." Erestor simply shook his head and sighed with exasperation. It almost seemed as if they should be celebrating Glorfindel's fiftieth instead of Lindir's for how maturely the Elda acted sometimes.

* * *

Lindir's begetting day celebration lasted late into the evening, though the honored elf himself snuck out around midnight, accompanied by Glorfindel. They hid away in Lindir's bedroom, speaking of Lindir's life in Imladris so far and his plans for the future. 

"Nandaro says that he is pleased with your mastery of the instruments he has been teaching you," Glorfindel commented, referring to the head minstrel of Imladris.

"That was kind of him," Lindir answered sleepily. He rested his head against one of the wings of the wingback chair he was sitting in, letting his eyes fall shut tiredly. Glorfindel sat on one of the arms of the chair, his arm draped over the back for balance. His hand rested near Lindir's head and once in a while he would stroke the fine blond hair.

"I'm sure he was being truthful, Lin. He said he could spend more time with you, if you're interested in that path."

Lindir opened his eyes at that and turned his head so he could see Glorfindel in the dim candlelight. "You're not disappointed, are you, that I'm not a warrior?"

"Of course not," Glorfindel answered quickly. Lindir gave him a Look. "Well, surely I'd want you to chose the path of a warrior, but more than that, I want you to do what makes you happy. Clearly, there is a reason that your mother-name is Lindir and not Maethor or something silly like that."

"Good, because I really like my harp and I'd hate for it to sit here collecting dust while I'm out on patrol."

"That would be a shame. After all, it is a beautiful instrument, if I do say so myself," Glorfindel replied proudly.

"You are so vain," Lindir jested, lighting smacking the warrior's leg. Glorfindel laughed along with the newly-turned adult. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that. "I am quite tired, though. Shall I see you in the morning before your meetings with the lords?"

"Perhaps. We should order breakfast in bed."

"I think this celebrating has gone quite far enough," insisted Lindir.

"Nonsense. Fine, go to bed. I shall see you in the morning, breakfast or no." Glorfindel leaned down to drop a kiss on Lindir's forehead before standing and offering a hand to the minstrel. Lindir took it and allowed Glorfindel to pull him up from the chair.

"Thank you again, for everything," Lindir said humbly.

"You are most welcome, _sinquelë_."

* * *

_Two weeks later…_

Glorfindel groaned irritably as the monotonous scales invaded his sleep. He had tried ignoring it, but the redundancy of it proved to be too much to bear. He'd tried covering his head with his pillow, but the feathers did little to block out the notes. He'd tried drinking himself into a deep sleep, but it took too long and too much wine to accomplish that. It was just too much to handle.

Glorfindel glanced out the window and judging by the stars and lack of moonlight, it was well into the early hours of the morning. He'd been kept up all night, again.

"That's it. Last straw," Glorfindel growled, sliding out of his bed and pulling on his house shoes. He exited his suite and approached the next door, eying it as if it was another balrog to be slain. Uncaring of anyone else in the vicinity, Glorfindel began pounding on the door. "Lindir, if you do not stop that infernal racket this instant I swear I will throw that Mordor-spawned harp into the Bruinen!" he shouted. The music stopped immediately.

Glorfindel sighed in relief. Blessed silence accompanied him as he crawled back into bed, looking forward to the first few hours of sleep he'd receive in two weeks.

The End!

_Please tell me what you think._

Thank you **HazleSilver**, my only reviewer for this part. _grins_ I think that line of Elrond's is funny too, but I hope I don't overdo it. Before this series I never realized how fun it could be to write Elrond into fiction. Thank you again!


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